


Ray's lost hours

by BeBunny



Series: Clock'verse [1]
Category: Bandom
Genre: Clock'verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeBunny/pseuds/BeBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray takes a detour to let off some steam, but finding assets for The Black Flag often comes from the most unlikely places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray's lost hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyfoxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/gifts).



The Black Flag hummed ever valiantly on against the winds, though its crew, mostly abed, slumbered gently in their quarters.  
Despite the mild season the cold night winds bit deep against Ray's skin. Even his rabbit fur gloves did little to guard against the chill. He sighed, envying Bob and Brendon wrapped in their eiderdowns and even Frank and Mikey, safely ensconced in Frank's old workshop.

Coming sharply to a decision he turned his beloved vessel Eastwards under the starlight toward Barracuda.

~*~

Relatively few hands were awake when he docked them above the Fairgrounds in the city's Southquarter. He had avoided the Waterdocks entirely since although he desired drink he also desired company, not a brawl. It was inadvisable in the extreme to wander the docks without trusted companions beside him and that would rather cramp his style.  
Instead he left two of the younger boys on guard at the docking bay, cross legged facing the hatch, already reaching for their cards. In the unlikely event they were boarded Bob would be alerted faster than you could say pirate, and Ray didn't envy any fool who woke Bob before he was ready. Mind, Ray didn't intend to be able to say 'Pirate' at all by the time Bob awoke so he supposed it all worked out in the end.

The Pipe and Gasket was, even in these small hours, well attended. Squatting in the shadow of the industrial workshops that bent iron and drilled bolts for the pirates that limped into dock it was less glamorous than the waterfront and more often frequented by the workers than the raiders. A smiling waitress bumped the door shut behind him with her hip and waved him onwards to the bar. She slid in behind the oak and greeted him over the cheerful babble of her patrons.

"What can I tempt you with Love?" she winked. Her soft curves were enticing and there was no mistaking the invitation in her eyes. It had been a long time since Ray had tangled his fingers in the laces of a woman's bodice. His return smile was warm as he gestured to the whiskey on the mirror and glass behind her. He pictured himself trailing lips and tongue over the pale rise of her breast and he took the tumbler from her gently, holding eye contact a moment longer. He watched her retreat to serve another patron, and noted the exaggerated sway of her hips, another invitation.

The lad beside him stirred. Ray had taken him for collapsed, drunk, but as he straightened and rolled his wrist to shake out cramp Ray could see he had been bent protectively over a sketchbook. For an instant Ray was reminded of Gerard, his late night obsessions with an artistic muse, but this work was technical, precise.

"This is hardly a library." Ray said, wondering aloud at the boy's choice of workshop. No, not a boy, as he raised his head to meet Ray's inquiring smirk Ray could see the filled out lines around his cheeks, laughter lines around his eyes. He was a young man to be sure, but no boy.

"I have a room here," the man said, "since it's no quieter in there than down here I figured I may as well be sociable."

"Sociable indeed." Ray mused. "Alone all the same?"

"Not anymore."

Ray laughed, genuinely. He patted the lad on the back and brought his whiskey up for a toast. "Ray Toro, Captain of the Black Flag at your service."  
He watched his companion's eyes grow wide and his heart sank a little, here was he hoping to gain a little company without having to regail stories of his adventures on the High Winds. Ingognito next time, idiot. At least it got him laid more often than not, and he could stand a little hero worship from this one, bookish as he was.

"The Black Flag..." The lad breathed, he seemed paused to ask a question, although not sure how to word it. Here we go, what'll it be? Escape from Dimhold? The Salvage of Lyrewing?... "How is it that the Flight Manifold doesn't simply buckle under the pressure at the high altitudes the Flag maintains? No other ships is known to push as high!"

"Well we...what?"

"Given the delicacy of the navigation array, I wonder if it has something to do with your choice of mercury instead of magnetic RFD generators..."

Ray blinked. This was no fan of the romantically embellished 'adventures' he and his crew had suffered over the years but a junkhead, albeit a well spoken and...was that a blueprint he was working on...? "Are you a designer?" Ray asked, meeting the onslaught of inquiry with his own.

"Uh, yes, Dallon, Dallon Weekes, I work, well, used to work, for the Siege Corps in Stonewall, but I couldn't...my work is intended to be used much more delicately."

Dallon's wry smile made his face crease in all the wrong places. Ray found himself frowning. He called for a top up to his whiskey and had the barmaid pour another for his companion. "I'll bet you're not all delicate." He winked and was rewarded with a more confused smile, but this, at least chased the dimples out of hiding. He gestured for Dallon to show him the blueprint he was working on, and was treated to a pleasant half an hour watching the lad's eyes light up with enthusiasm for his subject.

~*~

The two of them burst laughing into Dallon's poky rented room and Ray gasped. On every available spot of the wall was pinned a schematic or a design, some sketches of a more artistic bent. It reminded him of Frank's workshop if a little less chaotic. It lacked the bundles of wires and scrap metal that marked Frank's latest project, or the last one, abandoned in favor of grander plans.

Dallon was very nearly as tall as Ray, and the Captain found himself straightening Dallon's posture to check just how close they were. There wasn't much in it, even as they stumbled clumsily against each other. A fresh bout of giggling from them both put paid to the issue.

It seemed a matter of little effort to bend and close the gap between them. Ray found Dallon's mouth unresisting, his lips cool and damp, and slackened with drink. Their tongues met, sliding tentatively against each other and then, in a rush, Ray had Dallon pushed bodily against the wall beside his narrow cot.  
The barmaid's soft curves flashed briefly in Ray's mind as he skimmed the skin around Dallon's waist with his fingertips. It only served to inflame a fantasy and he resumed his kisses with renewed vigor, tasting and biting on Dallon's lip. His breath came sharp as he felt Dallon's rising arousal hard against his hip. Humming he dropped to his knees, his fingers entangled now in a man's laces, but no sweeter for it. He felt soft fuzz before he grasped his prize and Dallon echoed his own sigh as he sank his mouth around it.

He was a little clumsy, out of practice, but he felt the taut, insistent heat between his legs grow ever more impatient as he worked his tongue over Dallon's not unsubstantial length. The lad was delicate, a little angular and smooth as silk, Ray relished his task and elicited the most delicious gasps and mewls from Dallon, standing above him.

It wasn't long before Dallon's hands, clenching and unclenching in the air beside them found rest on Ray's crown, fitfully they tugged and pressed as Ray sucked and massaged until he found his face pressed hard to Dallon's hips and his mouth flooded. Dallon let his head fall back with a thud on the door jamb as Ray withdrew. But his flushed features grew dark with lust as the realisation of Ray's own needs dawned on him. He reached for Ray's hands and dragged him to the bed, laying him out. It was easy for Ray to simply tuck his hands under his head and watch as Dallon's deft fingers went to work releasing him. Even easier to let his eyes roll closed as Dallon's strokes brought him close to writhing in ecstasy. So long had it been since he had any attention other than his own that it seemed only to take moments before he too was crying out softly as he approached his peak. Dallon, with the tiniest of conspiratorial smirks bent his attention and took only the head of Ray's cock into his mouth. The sudden warm, wet pressure was enough to send Ray over the edge and he bucked his hips up to meet Dallon's hands harder as he came.

~*~

Ray's return to the Flag was heralded simply with Bob's muggy, distracted wave and a ragged call from the lad on watch. Mikey however, called out to him as he approached to ask how long they might stay. Ray's answering shrug was met with a snort from Frank, trotting alongside.

"Ah Frank," Ray said "Might I introduce a new friend for you."

Dallon stepped nervously out from behind the Captain.

"Frank Iero," He said, a little awed. "If I might, I have some suggestions on how you might improve fuel consumption, dependent on how you have calibrated the silent coppering..." He trailed off, confidence seeming to abandon him at the wide eyed stare from Frank and Bob behind. Ray coughed and Frank started, his surprise apparently catching up with him. He grinned disarmingly and took Dallon by the elbow.

"I've been telling Bob we should re-balance the flow through the dolphin points, but he doesn't..."

Ray watched them leave, Frank could have him all day if he wanted, but tonight...tonight he would re-invoke his right as Captain, Dallon would be his once again.


End file.
